


A Private Word

by Oilan



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Illustrated, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:43:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/pseuds/Oilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tiny alley behind the Cafe Musain is good for more than just revolutionary work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private Word

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this](http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/14280.html?thread=13249736#t13249736) kinkmeme prompt.
> 
> Many thanks to [needsmoreresearch](http://needsmoreresearch.tumblr.com) and [bootsssss](http://bootsssss.tumblr.com) for the betas.

Combeferre leaned back in his chair, opening his book to a marked page. He was content. The meeting that afternoon had gone much more smoothly than expected; under Enjolras’ direction, the Amis had compiled a list of contacts with whom to meet in the following few weeks. With any luck, they would be able to procure an ample stock of weaponry and other supplies within a fortnight, and considering the current political climate, rife with tension, it was none too soon. For the moment, however, there was nothing else to be done, and so Combeferre remained in his chair in the back room of the Musain and read.

Presently the room was emptying, friends eager to attend their various engagements. In the corner, Bossuet, Joly, and Grantaire remained behind for the moment, apparently deciding upon their own diversion for the evening. Enjolras was standing at another table as he finished organizing and packing away his notes from that day. Once done, he pulled up a chair beside Combeferre and sat down to read as well, retrieving a book from his satchel.

The two of them could easily sit in comfortable silence, side by side, for hours while reading or studying, but on this day it was only a few minutes before Enjolras edged his chair a bit closer. A small smile tugged at the corners of Combeferre’s mouth, and it grew wider once Enjolras slipped an arm around him. Enjolras, though not necessarily a secretive person, was rather private regarding his and Combeferre’s personal life. Usually, it was only in their living quarters that Enjolras would curl up against Combeferre or turn to him for a kiss, and so Combeferre savored this rare moment. He leaned into Enjolras’ side, placing an affectionate hand on the other’s knee, caressing it lightly with his thumb as they both continued to read.

Combeferre had only finished a couple more pages before Enjolras shifted slightly in his chair. Combeferre did not pay this much mind, but readjusted his position against Enjolras and rested his head on the other’s shoulder. He was just beginning to relax again when Enjolras stirred once more. Combeferre stopped reading, and upon lifting his head, realized why Enjolras was having trouble remaining still. Engrossed in his book, Combeferre had not noticed that his hand had inadvertently moved higher and higher on Enjolras’ thigh. Combeferre froze.

“ _All right?_ ” he whispered.

Enjolras replied with a stiff nod, eyes still on his book. Combeferre was left in a state of indecision. Enjolras did not seem displeased. Indeed, he seemed to be struggling not to arch into Combeferre’s touch. Pleased, and yet feeling heat creep up his face, Combeferre leaned against him once more, fingers resuming the slow, teasing movement on Enjolras’ leg, now with intent. Enjolras let out a nigh inaudible gasp, but did not push Combeferre’s hand away.

This went on for a while longer. Combeferre had gone back to reading, outwardly calm yet heart pounding, gaze flickering up every so often to their friends in the corner. It would not do to be caught. Occasionally, Enjolras would shift in his seat or his breath would hitch, but he would remain impassive, eyes on his book. This would not stand. He seemed far too composed. Combeferre, growing bolder, moved his gentle caresses to the inside of Enjolras’ thigh. This earned him a stifled moan, too quiet to be heard across the room, though Combeferre did not miss it. He looked up to check Enjolras’ expression. On first glance, Enjolras seemed as resolutely stoic as ever, but the blush darkening his cheeks and the deliberately deep, controlled breathing were obvious to Combeferre. Indeed, Enjolras did not even seem to be reading anymore, his gaze unmoving on the open book.

Combeferre, feeling flushed at the mere idea that he was quietly driving Enjolras to distraction beside him, began thinking longingly of the soft bed in Enjolras’ flat. It was only a few blocks from the Musain. All they had to do was stand and walk there, and then Combeferre could press Enjolras into the mattress and they could both let go of their restraint for a few sweet moments. The political climate being what it was, they had not had the time nor energy to do much more than exchange a few kisses in weeks. Now, even the short walk to Enjolras’ room seemed like too much, and Combeferre found himself wishing Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire would leave. Unfortunately, the three of them seemed to have decided that drinking in the Musain would constitute their evening activity, and appeared ready to stay at their table for a good long while.

Somewhere between looking at his book and savoring Enjolras’ increasingly hazy expression, Combeferre’s eyes settled on the back room’s private door. The tiny Rue des Gres was behind that door, most likely empty and quiet. An idea worked its way into Combeferre’s head, and though he blushed at it, heart beating faster, it would not leave him alone.

A few minutes passed and Enjolras seemed to be struggling not to moan aloud, Combeferre’s hand still moving teasingly on his leg. Combeferre made up his mind. He turned toward Enjolras and squeezed his thigh gently. Enjolras’ eyes fluttered shut.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre said, still quiet but just loud enough to be heard by their friends. Enjolras’ eyes snapped open and he looked at him, surprised. Combeferre smiled gently. “May I have a private word?” He nodded in the direction of the door at the back of the room. Enjolras’ eyes flicked to it and after a moment of hesitation, he rose and strode toward it with an admirable amount of composure. Combeferre followed close behind. Their friends, too busy with their wine, took no notice.

The crisp evening air was cool on Combeferre’s face as he stepped outside after Enjolras. They remained motionless for a mere heartbeat, but then the door clicked shut and Enjolras was kissing Combeferre with a sudden, fierce desperation.

The intensity of that kiss, the feeling of Enjolras’ fingers in his hair, nearly overwhelmed him. Combeferre managed to hold on to his control and, kissing back earnestly, pressed Enjolras into the hollow corner of the doorframe. Enjolras did not protest and indeed, roughly pulled him closer.

Combeferre quickly moved his attentions to brush his lips along Enjolras’ jaw and, tugging Enjolras’ cravat loose with one hand, planted heated kisses on the newly exposed skin, relishing every stifled sound Enjolras made in response. His other hand was clumsily unbuttoning Enjolras’ waistcoat, pulling up the shirt and feeling the smooth, flushed skin beneath. Enjolras, gasping at the contact, was much more impatient. Frustrated, sick of being teased, he moved his hand down to cup Combeferre between the legs. Combeferre smothered a groan into the hollow of Enjolras’ throat, and in retaliation, pulled Enjolras’ trousers open and began stroking him firmly.

“Ah, _God!_ ”

“ _Quiet!_ ” Combeferre whispered, suddenly acutely aware that their friends were only a few meters away, albeit with a wall separating them. “ _You need to be quiet._ ”

Enjolras buried his face in Combeferre’s shoulder, panting harshly as Combeferre unbuttoned the fall of his own trousers and took them both in his hand, stroking steadily. The angle was not ideal, Enjolras having to lean awkwardly against the wall, but he rocked his hips into Combeferre’s touch nevertheless. He had wrenched at Combeferre’s cravat to untie it and was now pressing open-mouthed kisses to any bare skin he could – lips, neck, shoulder. The scrape of Enjolras’ teeth against his collarbone threatened to undo Combeferre’s self-control completely, and he had to bite his own lip to remain quiet.

Within minutes, Enjolras was trembling, on the precipice, one hand curled tightly in Combeferre’s hair. Combeferre worked his hand faster, very close himself, partially holding Enjolras steady against the wall and still kissing his neck. Enjolras arched forward and moved his hand down to join Combeferre’s. The second he touched them both Enjolras came hard, managing to remain silent yet gripping Combeferre’s hair almost painfully. After that, Combeferre allowed Enjolras a few ragged breaths before tugging at his hand, wanting and needing to be touched again; it was his turn to be desperate.

Enjolras took the hint and wrapped a hand around Combeferre, kissing him fervently, Combeferre gasping quietly and shivering with every stroke, Enjolras’ thumb pressing in just the right spot. A moment later, Combeferre tensed and muffled a groan in Enjolras’ rumpled shirt as he spent himself at last.

The following few minutes were warm and hazy. Enjolras still leaned against the wall of the Musain, more steady now, embracing Combeferre and slowly smoothing over his back with his clean hand as the pair of them caught their breath. Combeferre came back to himself slowly. It was almost completely dark now, and they could not stay in this little alcove forever. He realized vaguely that they both needed a wash, and so pulled out his handkerchief to clean them up and re-buttoned both of their trousers. He nuzzled Enjolras’ slightly damp neck and leaned up for a quick kiss before stepping back. He felt drained, but blissful.

“We should probably go back to your place.” Upon taking in Enjolras’ appearance, however, Combeferre smiled slightly. They would need a bit more cleaning up if they were going to go back into the Musain to collect their belongings, much less walk through the streets. Enjolras was completely disheveled- waistcoat unbuttoned, shirt open and half untucked, cravat loose, locks of hair sticking to his face and neck. Combeferre guessed that he himself looked no better. He stepped forward again to straighten Enjolras’ collar and retie his cravat for him.

Once presentable, or reasonably so – Enjolras’ cravat was still slightly askew and Combeferre’s hair would not lie flat no matter what they did – the two carefully reentered the Musain to retrieve their books and hats. Bossuet and Joly were still sitting at their table, not quite sober now, and nodded to Enjolras and Combeferre as they closed the door behind them. Grantaire was asleep, slumped in his chair. The three of them had not suspected a thing. Combeferre was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Enjolras’ shirt. Two of the buttons had been skipped and a reddish mark was clearly visible on his neck. Quickly bidding good night to Joly and Bossuet, Combeferre hurried Enjolras out of the café.

Night had fallen completely now, and Combeferre was relieved to be under the cover of darkness again as the pair strode east to Enjolras’ flat, side by side. They walked in silence for a time before, out of the corner of his eye, Combeferre noticed an uncharacteristically sly expression on Enjolras’ face. It gave him pause.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Enjolras raised his eyebrows as if surprised at being caught, but a moment later, his expression cleared and he linked his arm with Combeferre’s.

“I was merely reflecting – you know, it is very fortunate I do not live far from here.”

Combeferre blinked. “And why is that, may I ask?”

“It is a close and convenient location. I will need to enact my counterblow – retribution for you attempting to seduce me in the Musain. Shamelessly.”

“ _Succeeding_ in seducing you, you mean to say.” Combeferre let out a little huff of a laugh. “I admit, I’m wary. Your counterblows are not to be taken lightly.” He gave Enjolras’ arm a playful flick.

Enjolras halted for a moment, and after glancing around to ensure they were alone, tilted his head for a kiss. “Rest assured, you will get exactly what you deserve.”

 


End file.
